


Scars

by SaxonSpud



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22450198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxonSpud/pseuds/SaxonSpud
Summary: Some scars are visible, others aren’t.You carry a lot of scars. You also have a secret. If any of the O’Driscolls discover what it is, you’re as good as dead. Living on a knife edge, everything changes when you’re is captured in the Grizzlies by the Van Der Linde Gang.  you expect the same treatment from Dutch Van Der Linde as you would get from Colm O’Driscoll once they discover who you are. But Dutch Van Der Linde isn't Colm O’Driscoll. It might just be possible that the Van Der Linde gang can help heal those scars.
Kudos: 13





	1. Not an O'Driscoll

You hated this damn mountain. It was freezing. You hated being cold with a passion, but the cold up here was different, biting. It seemed to seep into the very marrow of your bone.

You sighed, and headed towards your horse.

"Hey...Boy!"

You snapped your head round, to see Colm O'Driscolls eyes, boring into you.

You walked over to where he was sitting on his horse. He always seemed to have it in for you. If anything went wrong it seemed to be your fault. You had the bruises to prove it.

Many a time you'd thought about leaving, but you knew it was pointless. Once you were in, you were in. You'd seen what had happened to others, who'd decided they wanted out. It hadn't been pretty. Seems the only way to get out was when you were six feet under. Either by Colm's hand or by the law, or one of his other enemies.

He glared at you, "Kieran, why are you still here?" He hissed.

"W...Well one of the boys asked..." You began.

Colm grabbed you by coat, "How old are you boy?" He growled.

"S...Seventeen," you stuttered.

"Well, If you wanna see eighteen, I suggest you do what the fuck I tell you!"

He hit you sharply across the face twice. The cold making it hurt twice as much.

Then he shoved you backwards. Thankfully you managed to keep your footing, and ran quickly to your horse.

"Now fuck off and check the fucking trail!" He hissed.

You quickly mounted, and headed off out of camp. You guessed that he wanted to be off this mountain, just as much as you did. The storm had made most of the tracks and trails impassable. Each day he would send someone out to check. Being the newest, and the lowest in the pecking order, you mostly got the shit jobs. Anything that no one else wanted to do. You should have told the other fella to check his own horse. Rather than keep Colm waiting. Sometimes it was easier to tell some one yes, than put up with the consequences of telling 'em no.

You were pretty certain that checking the trail was still a futile effort. You could see by the dark colour of the sky and the depth of the snow that the track was still gonna be pretty impassable.

You also knew, when you came back with that news, everyone was gonna be pissed. No one liked being stuck in the mountain, especially not Colm. The longer you lingered here, the more grumpy and short tempered everyone became. Not good for you, as you seemed to be everyone else's punching bag.

As you rode along, you heard hoof beats behind you. You glanced around, hoping it wasn't Colm.

You were relieved when it wasn't, but not so relieved, when it wasn't one of his boys. The fact that the rider seemed to be chasing you, scared you more than a little. You kicked your horse on, urging it to go faster. As you glanced behind you again, you realised that the rider was chasing you.

You yelled back at him, "Leave me alone, what the hells wrong with you."

The next thing, you heard the sound of a lasso. Then it pulled tight around your arms pulling you of the back of your horse.

"Shit!" you grunted, as you hit the snow.

You managed to pull the lasso off of you, as you tried to scramble away. There wasn't a great deal of point, as your horse had spooked and it had galloped off.

You felt a hand on your back as the man pushed you down harshly. Your face in the snow. You panicked as you felt your hands being yanked behind your back, and a rope being tied around your wrists. Then another piece of rope binding your ankles.

"Pl..please don't hurt me," you whimpered.

The man didn't seem to care about your pleas.

He chucked you over his shoulder, then chucked you on his horse.

"Pl...please don't..." you begged, nervously.

"We're gonna go for a little ride!" He smirked.

He climbed onto his horse, and kicked it on.

"What's your name boy?"

"K...Kieran," you mumbled.

The man hummed, "Kieran what?"

"Duffy," you responded, "Kieran Duffy."

He chuckled, "Well I ain't gonna lie, this is a real bad day for you."

You grunted. He wasn't wrong. First you got on Colm's bad side, now you were being kidnapped. You knew you were gonna have a bruise on your face, from Colm's hand. You just hoped this trip was over soon, or you were gonna have some severely bruised ribs. 

It took about half an hour before you arrived at your destination. By the time you came to a stop, your ribs were aching, and you felt like puking.

Your captor chucked you over his shoulder, and headed towards a cabin. As he approached, the door opened, and he tossed you to the ground. Rolling you over, he cut the ropes around your ankles and stood you up.

"You found the little shit, did ya!"

You looked up at the man who had just walked out of the cabin. You recognised his face immediately. You realised within seconds, how much deep shit you were in. Dutch Van Der Linde. Colm's arch nemesis.

You figured, that the man who'd caught you, was probably Arthur Morgan, known to be Dutch's right hand man. The same man, now hauled you to your feet.

"You want me to make him talk," he hissed.

"Oh no, now all we'll get is lies!" Dutch scoffed.

You watched as two more men came out of the cabin. You closed your eyes, trying to stop yourself from trembling. If they noticed, you hoped it was just because they thought you were cold.

Dutch turned to look at the two men who had emerged from the cabin.

"Uncle, Mr Williamson, tie this maggot up some place safe. We get him hungry first!"

The two men roughly grabbed hold of you.

"I got a saying my friend," Dutch began.

From the look on his face, you were anything but his friend.

"We shoot fellers as need shootin', save fellers as need savin' and feed fellers as need feedin'" he hesitated, "we're gonna find out what you need!"

You watched as he turned away, he held your life in his hands.

"I can't believe it, an O'Driscoll in my camp!" Dutch laughed.

You turned your head around, "I ain't an O'Driscoll!" You yelled.

Dutch rolled his eyes, "Whatever you say son!"

The two men manhandled you into a barn of sorts. They shoved you to the ground, next to a wooden upright, and tied you to the post.

You closed your eyes and sighed, shivering slightly. Not with fear as much now but with cold. You knew your days were numbered. If you didn't freeze to death, or if you weren't starved to death they would certainly kill you at some point. You just prayed they didn't find out who you really were. Colm and his boys hadn't which was probably why you were still alive. You were pretty sure, the way they were man handling you, it wouldn't take long for them to realise, unless you died first.

You pulled at the ropes around your wrist, but they were tied tight. The only thing you managed to do was chafe your wrists slightly. You decided that you would try and get some sleep, which wouldn't be easy, not being so cold, and uncomfortable.

After two days, despite being cold, tired, hungry and thirsty, you were still alive and in one piece.

You knew full well, if you had been Colm's prisoner, you would have been tortured within an inch of your life by now. The Van Der Linde gang, pretty much left you a lone, tied to a post. If it hadn't been for the gradual thaw, you may well have expired due to lack of water. It was so cold in the barn, there were Icicles on the inside. When it started to thaw, you were able to catch the drops of water melting on you tongue. Not a lot, but enough to keep you alive. You were weak though. You had never been as strong as the men in Colm's gang, and a few days without food had left you as week as a kitten.

When the two men, who had dragged you into the barn, and tied you up came in, you were certain that this was it. Instead, they dragged you out of the barn, and tossed you in the back of a wagon. It was a lot warmer and brighter, than when you had been put in the barn. You didn't say anything, but you guessed from the idle chit chat, that you were finally gonna get off this god-forsaken mountain.

How long you'd last, you didn't know, but you were grateful that you wouldn't freeze to death.

Being grateful, didn't last long. When you arrived at your next destination, you were bundled out the back of the wagon and tied to a tree.

At least in the mountain, you had been inside. Despite it being warm, you were still open to the elements. Well for now anyway.

You were surprised by the number of women in the camp. Colm had no women, except for the ones he used for his and his men's pleasure. They were usually kidnapped, used then killed, when they got bored of 'em.

Everyone just seemed to glare at you as they walked past. With the exception of two people. Both of those were women. One of them glared, and a couple of times, when she walked past had actually spat at you, and called you a murdering bastard. The other, didn't glare. She smiled once or twice. On one occasion, when no one was looking, she gave you a drink of water. If it hadn't been for her, then you would have had no water at all.

It didn't really stop the pains in your stomach, due to lack of food. You wondered how much more painful it would get, if you starved to death.

The approach of Arthur Morgan, made you think perhaps you wouldn't starve to death. The look in his eye said he was more likely gonna beat you to death.

He'd hardly said anything, when you saw Dutch Van Der Linde, striding over, with another man. You recognised him as one of the men who had tied you up in the barn.

"Seems like the cat has got our friends tongue, I thought perhaps Mr Williamson could have a word."

You glanced between the three men, trying to swallow. The lack of saliva in your now dry mouth, making it hard."

"You ready to talk boy?" Williamson growled.

You didn't say anything, you just shook your head.

Dutch looked at you angrily, then looked at Mr Williamson.

"Hurt him!"

You watched as Mr Williamson balled his hand into a fist, you screwed your eyes closed, waiting for the hit. Colm had hit you before, you guessed this wouldn't be much worse.

"Wait!" Dutch yelled, "lets just have a little fun...geld him!"

You closed your eyes, this was it, you felt the bile rise in your throat.

You felt hands grab your trousers and yank them down around your ankles. You screwed your eyes tight, cringing.

All three men let out a gasp.

"What the fuck!" Dutch exclaimed

"What sort of freak is he!" Williamson yelled.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Its not a he, Bill! Its a she!"

"And none of you noticed!" Dutch chuckled.

"Please," you whimpered, "just get on with it."

A tear trickled down your cheek, no point putting up a brave front now.

You'd seen the women in Colm's camp, you knew what was coming next.


	2. Six Point Cabin

Dutch hastily pulled your trousers back up.

You were surprised, but still trembling.

You flinched when you felt a hand touch your face, but were even more surprised when a calloused thumb wiped away your tears.

"We might be outlaws, sweetheart, but we ain't monsters," Dutch whispered.

"She's still an O'Driscoll," Bill grumbled.

Dutch nodded, "true!"

He started to unbuttoned your shirt. You gasped, and tried to back away. With your back against the tree, there was no where to go.

"p...please, I know a place, he might be hiding!" you blurted.

Dutch hummed, and carried unbuttoning your shirt, looking at your face every so often.

Once your shirt was unbuttoned, he drew his knife. You squeezed your eyes closed and turned your head to the side. If he was going to cut you, you knew it would hurt.

You heard a ripping sound, as his knife sliced through the fabric you had used to bind you breasts down.

The relief you felt was immense. Not just because you hadn't been stabbed, but because your breasts were very painful. The longest you'd bound them for before was two days, they'd been like this for closer to five.

You felt him buttoning up your shirt again.

Once he was done, his hand grabbed your chin. He held it firmly, but not so much that it was painful.

"Now miss, how about you tell me your real name?"

"I...M...my name is K...Kat," you stuttered.

Dutch hummed again, "Kat?"

"Katrina."

"I'm guessing that Colm don't know you're a woman?" Arthur interjected.

You shook your head.

Dutch, once again put his hand to your face. You flinched, as he touched the bruise on your face.

He rolled his eyes, "still, don't suppose he would care if you were a man or a woman, you still bruise the same when his fists make contact!"

You looked down at the ground. You'd rather not talk about that, although you figured you might have to, if you were gonna get untied from this tree.

Dutch put his fingers under your chin, and tilted your head upwards, not so gently this time.

"Where is this place? Where he might be hiding?" he demanded.

You hesitated for a second, if Colm found out it was you, then you were dead for sure, if you didn't tell Dutch, then you were probably dead anyway. Despite him saying they weren't monsters, you didn't think he would have any qualms about killing an O'Driscoll. Even if said O'Driscoll was a woman, who was trying to find a way out.

"There's a cabin, up in the woods...I g...guess I could take you there," you stuttered.

Dutch nodded, and this time Arthur pulled his knife, quickly cutting the ropes which tied you to the tree.

"Why don't you take us there, right now!" He growled.

Arthur gave you a shove on your back with his hand, "Lets go!"

You stumbled slightly, but managed to stay on your feet.

"Arthur, remember she's just a girl!" Dutch yelled.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "She's still an O'Driscoll!" He hissed.

Arthur was soon joined by Bill and another man. He had a nasty scar down his face. His name was John, and you had to ride with him. You weren't to keen, but you didn't have much choice. Arthur had told him in no uncertain terms to kill you, if you caused any trouble.

The ride to the cabin was uneventful. John and Arthur seemed to spend the whole time bickering. You just spoke when you needed to direct them.

When you arrived, they left the horses in a clearing, just above where the cabin was. When they saw some O'Driscolls wandering on the edge of the property, John quickly grabbed hold of you. He clapped his hand over your mouth, and pointed his gun at your head. You froze, as Bill and Arthur quietly took out some of the outlying O'Driscolls. You were pretty sure given half a chance you would be next.

John commanded you to stay put, and ran down the incline to join the other two men. You stayed put for a while, especially when you heard the exchange of gun fire. Not that you hadn't been in a firefight before, but right now you were unarmed. Also, you weren't sure if the O'Driscolls in the camp might recognise you. If they did, they would like as not try and kill you for ratting them out to their biggest enemy.

Once most of the gunfire had ceased, you crept down the hill towards the cabin. You picked up a gun from one of the dead O'Driscolls. If anyone was gonna try and kill you, then you weren't gonna go down without a fight.

As you got closer to the cabin, you watched as Arthur was about to open the door. He didn't really get a chance to open it, as someone inside, pushed it, sending Arthur sprawling to the floor.

You recognised the man immediately. Colm's second in command. you'd felt his fist more than once. He was holding a shotgun, and pointing it at Arthur. You raised the gun you had just picked up, and pulled the trigger, hitting the bastard full in the chest.

"Fucking bastard," you grumbled under your breath.

You looked at Arthur lying on the ground, "you ok?"

"Sure, thank you," he sighed, almost begrudgingly.

You watched as he stood up and walked into the cabin, shoving the pistol in your trousers. He quickly turned around and came back out.

"Come 'ere," he growled, "you set us up!"

He pulled out his gun and pointed it at you. You immediately raised your hands.

"No...no I didn't!" You squealed, panic in your voice. "I saved your life!"

Bill walked over chuckling "She did!"

Arthur Holstered his gun, and grabbed you by the shirt, and shoved you.

"Get lost, before I change my mind!" He growled.

The force knocked you to the ground, but you started to scramble away, and were quickly back on your feet. This was your one chance to get away from both gangs, and you were gonna take it.

You heard one of the other men mutter something, you couldn't quite make out.

"Hey, Stop right there," Arthur yelled.

You quickly glanced over your shoulder. He had drawn his gun, and was pointing it at you.

You carried on running.

"Oh for Christ sake!" Arthur grumbled, as he started to chase after you.

In your weakened state, you couldn't run very fast, at least not compared to Arthur. Within moments he had tackled you to the ground, and you were flat on your face, while he pinned you to the ground.

"Let me go!" you hissed, as you tried to squirm away from him.

As you did, your shirt rode up your back slightly, leaving part of your back exposed.

"what the fuck!" Arthur exclaimed.

He held your arms above your head with one hand, and lifted up the back of your shirt, to reveal the scars on your back.

"Leave me alone," you screamed.

"That ain't gonna happen," he hissed, "who did this to you? Was it Colm?" He demanded

You tried to struggled out of his grip, but to no avail.

"Ain't none of your business, now let me go," you yelled.

Arthur quickly pulled your arms behind your back, and bound your wrists with some rope.

He pulled gun from your trousers and tossed it to the side, then he dragged you to your feet.

"C'mon, I'm taking you back to camp!"

Arthur glanced over at John, "you and Bill, just check the cabin, then head back."

John nodded, and headed towards the cabin closely followed by Bill.

Arthur grasped your arms, and marched you to the horses.

"Someone didn't like you much, did they?" He commented.

You sighed, "a bit like you!" you mumbled.

Arthur chuckled, "I ain't got nothin' against ya, 'cept you bein' an O'Driscoll!"

"How many times do I have to say it, I ain't an O'Driscoll!" You yelled.

Arthur lifted you onto his horse, then mounted up behind you.

"Behave, or I'll stow you on the back, like last time!" he growled, as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

You huffed, but kept quiet. The last thing you wanted was your ribs bruising again.

Arthur kicked his horse on, and you headed back to camp.

"So, Katri... Kat...Whatever your name is! What did you do to deserve a whipping?"

You stiffened, but kept your mouth shut.

Arthur hummed, "must've been something real bad, if you don't wanna talk about it!"

You knew he was goading you, but you couldn't help yourself.

"Ain't none of your business!" You hissed.

After that Arthur didn't say anything. You were glad, why the hell would he care anyway. You weren't just annoyed that he'd seen your back, you were annoyed because it seemed like you were back to square one. A prisoner, and a hungry one at that! Instead of picking up the gun, you should have looked for some food and run. Now you didn't even have a gun!


	3. Bad Memories

When you finally arrived back at the camp, Arthur dismounted, and hitched his horse. Then he lifted you down.

With one hand, firmly clamped around the back of your neck, he escorted you over to a large tent.

Standing inside was Dutch.

He raised an eyebrow, "So, what did our little O'Driscoll girl do to get herself tied up again?"

"I ain't an O'Driscoll," you growled.

Arthur frowned, "well she kinda saved my life, then she tried to do a runner. Then I found this!"

Arthur turned you round and pulled up the back of your shirt, to reveal the scars on your back.

You tried to struggle, but with Arthur holding you fast, you had no chance.

"She wont tell me who did it either!" Arthur concluded.

"It ain't none of your business!" you hissed.

Dutch held the back of your shirt up and ran his fingers across the scars on your back. You flinched not because it hurt, but because of the memory of how they came to be there. You whimpered trying to bury the memory but failing

Dutch hummed, "well it weren't Colm, because if it was he'd have found out you weren't a boy!"

Dutch spun you round so that you were facing him, he gripped you by the shoulders.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded.

You looked down at the ground, you hadn't wanted anyone to see, least of all talk about it.

Dutch cupped your face in his hand, and tilted your head up. He looked you straight in your pale blue eyes.

"Kat! Who did this?" he demanded, his voice raised.

You felt tears pooling in your eyes. Not because you were scared, but because of the memory surfacing, which you had managed to keep at bay for the last two years.

Dutch nodded at Arthur, and you heard the ropes around you wrists being cut.

His other hand went to your face, so that your face was held by both his hands.

"Katrina!" He whispered, "I need you to tell me!"

A tear trickled down your cheek.

"Wh...Why do you care?" you asked, as a sob escaped your lips.

Dutch smiled gently, "I always care! I cared about Arthur, when he came to us at fifteen, when his daddy had been beating him. I cared about John, when he came to us at twelve, when the law wanted to hang him!"

One of his calloused thumbs wiped a tear from your cheek.

"I care about you Kat, because you need my help! I want to know who did this, and why you've been pretending to be a boy?"

You wanted to look away. You wanted to get away from this, someone pretending to care, making everything you had hidden for the last two years come bubbling back to the surface. You were supposed to be tough, you weren't supposed to cry.

More sobs escaped, and more tears trickled out your eyes, like the flood gates had been opened. All the emotion that you'd buried came out in that moment.

"M...My daddy did it!" You whimpered, between sobs.

Dutch wrapped his arms around you, one hand holding the back of your head, his fingers gently entwined in your messy blonde hair, the other gently rubbing your back.

He pulled your head into his chest.

"Its ok," he soothed, "we're gonna look after you now."

Dutch glanced at Arthur, "go and find Susan, we need to find somewhere for her to sleep tonight, and maybe a change of clothes."

Arthur nodded, "she can sleep in my cot, until Susan can sort something out."

Dutch nodded, and watched as Arthur left tent.

You weren't sure how long it was, before your tears and your sobs finally subsided. At some point, Dutch had guided you towards his cot, where you sat. When you pulled away he didn't stop you, but you couldn't look at him. He was supposed to be your enemy, yet he was the only one who'd given you any comfort in the last two years.

"How long have you been pretending to be a boy?" he asked quietly.

You looked at the floor, "a couple of years."

"Is that how long you've been with Colm's boys?" He asked.

You shook your head, "Only been with him about six months."

Dutch frowned, and gently put his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Why? Why would you pretend to be a boy for two years?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"M...my daddy. He never wanted a girl," you finally replied.

Dutch stared at you in disbelief. "Your daddy made you dress like a boy?"

You nodded, "kinda, he said I had to be a boy or a whore," your voice cracked, "I didn't wanna be a whore," you whispered.

Dutch sighed, "how old are you Kat?"

"Seventeen," you mumbled.

Dutch shook his head, he wanted to know more about this father of yours, but he didn't think now was the time to ask. He also wondered about your mother, but that could wait too. He wondered how much trauma you'd been through in your short life.

"C'mon, lets go and find you something to eat." he suggested, gently putting pressure on the back of your shoulder, urging you to stand.

You stood, realising once again how hungry you were.

Dutch guided you outside the tent, towards a table, where an older man was sitting.

"Kat, this is Hosea. Just sit there whilst I find you some food."

You sat down, and watched Dutch walk across the camp then you looked at Hosea.

"You look confused," Hosea stated.

You frowned, "I don't understand why he's being so kind"

Hosea chuckled, "We can tell when people need our help. You running with the O'Driscolls... Well I guess that's been the least of your problems."

You looked around the camp, there were a few people staring at you. Others were just going about their business.

"They don't like me. I don't blame them," you sighed.

Hosea went to put his hand on yours. You stared at your hand then at him.

He still smiled, "they don't know you, they're just being cautious, you are an O'Driscoll after all."

You sighed, "I ain't, but then nobody believes me anyway!"

You pulled your hand away, then put your head in your hands,

"Its pointless," you mumbled.

Dutch walked back over with a bowl in his hand, he'd overheard what you had just said.

He put a hand gently on your shoulder, you glanced up at him

"It's never pointless... now eat this!"

He placed the bowl of food in front of you.

You picked up the spoon and took a mouthful of the stew, after the first spoonful you started shovelling it in, your stomach wanting the food, faster than you could get it down your throat.

Hosea chuckled, "Slow down, Kat. There's more where that came from, if you need it."

You continued eating, but chewed the food savouring each mouthful.

Arthur walked across the camp to find Susan. He didn't know why he was feeling guilty, but he was. The way you had been treated so far. Mostly by him. He didn't know if it was because you were a girl, or because you'd been treated so badly. He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind.

When he found Susan she was busy hassling the girls to get on with some work.

"Miss Grimshaw, can I have some spare clothes for the O'Driscoll kid, and Dutch needs a tent setting up. She'll need somewhere to sleep!"

Susan frowned, "since when do O'Driscolls get to have a tent to themselves, and get a free change of clothes!" she huffed.

Arthur sighed, "since we found out she was a girl, and that she's been beat real bad. Probably other things too, but she ain't talking much."

Susan's expression softened slightly, "I don't have a magic wand Mr Morgan, I cant magic a tent out of thin air! I can help with the clothes though."

Arthur nodded, "if we can sort a tent out in the next few days, in the meantime she's gonna be sleeping in my cot, and a clean shirt and a pair of trousers will do her."

Susan frowned, "is that appropriate, a young girl sleeping with you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "I ain't gonna be sleeping in the cot too. I'll be on a bedroll. She ain't eaten or slept properly for nearly a week, poor kid."

Tilly glanced over and giggled, "never thought you'd be giving up your bed for an O'Driscoll! Still we thought she was a boy, not a girl."

Susan handed Arthur some clothes, "Does she need anything else?"

Arthur glanced at Susan, then at the three women who were sitting down with a basket of mending.

"Probably just a friend, if any of you are so inclined," he hesitated, "but for now just a good night sleep."

He tipped his hat, and headed back towards Dutch's tent. He wasn't sure how Kat would feel about sleeping in his tent. All he'd done so far was tie her up, and tackle her to the ground. Still, if she wanted to sleep in a decent bed, then she didn't have much choice.

After you finished your food, you just sat there staring blankly. Truth was you were thinking. Thinking about your past, thinking about your future. Trying to understand the people in the gang. Mostly Dutch and Hosea.

Neither of them had spoken much more to you, they had been chatting amongst themselves. You hadn't really paid any attention to what they'd said. You had pretty much zoned out.

You soon zoned back in when you heard Arthur's voice. He was pretty much the reason you were in this predicament.

"C'mon I'll show you where you're sleepin'" he stated.

You stared at him for a moment, until you heard Hosea laugh.

"Go on Kat, he wont hurt you!"

You weren't convinced, despite Hosea's assurances. Still it wasn't like you had much choice.

You stood up, and looked at Arthur. Your eyes narrowing slightly, and expression distrustful.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and ignored the way you flinched, when he put his hand on your shoulder.

His hand was more gentle this time, and he guided you rather than shoved you across the camp towards a tent. Well it was more of a lean to, as one side of it was the side of a wagon.

"Here ya go," he chirped. "You're on the cot, I'm on the bedroll."

You looked around, it was a lot smaller than Dutch's tent.

"I can sleep on the bedroll," you stated.

"You'll sleep where I tell you to sleep," he huffed, in annoyance.

You sighed, and sat on the edge of the cot.

Arthur sat beside you, and grasped your chin in his hand, pulling your head around so you were looking at him.

"Now listen to me, Kitten..." he began.

"Its Kat or Katrina," you hissed.

"You're too small to be a Kat, so I'm gonna call you Kitten," he chuckled, "I've no idea how you fooled Colm into thinking you were a boy, theirs nothing of ya!"

"I fooled you!" you huffed.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and shook his head, "that's beside the point, whilst you're in my care, you'll do as I say! Is that understood?"

You sighed, "yes Mr Morgan."

Arthur sighed, "it's Arthur, there's a change of clothes for the mornin'. Miss Grimshaw gave me a dress, but I told her a shirt and trousers would do. I don't reckon you're quite ready to be wearing dresses yet!"

"Thanks," you mumbled.

Arthur stood up, and looked at you. You were just sitting on the edge of the cot.

You gasped, as he grabbed one of your boots.

"Ya can't sleep in your boots now, can you?" He smirked.

He pulled off both of your boots, "go on now, lay down!"

You lay down on the cot, "don't get any funny ideas," you huffed.

Arthur picked up a blanket, and threw it over you, "That's the last thing on my mind, Kitten. Now get some rest."

"Its Kat!" You grumbled, as you closed your eyes.

Arthur just looked at you and smirked, before laying down on the bedroll.

It wasn't long before you drifted off to sleep. Exhaustion taking priority over the fact that you were sharing a tent with some strange cowboy.


	4. A Revelation

Arthur awoke suddenly. It was the middle of the night. He was about to cuss, as it was you that had woken him. That was until he realised you were still sleeping.

He lit a lantern and put it on the table. He could tell by the way you were tossing and turning, and the expression on your sleeping face that you were having a nightmare.

Beads of sweat reflected the dim light which came from the lantern.

He had seen this before. When John first came to them. He would have nightmares. Dutch would slowly rouse him, then urge him back to a more peaceful sleep.

  
Arthur sat on the edge of the cot, and put his hand on your head. He started to stroke your forehead with his thumb, just as he had seen Dutch do, in the past.

“Kitten!” he whispered.

“Kitten, wake up,” he urged.

You moaned, the visions from your dream started to disintegrate as you were pulled from your sleep state. Your eyelids fluttered, and you gasped.

“Arthur! Wha…”

“Sshh, its ok. You were havin’ a nightmare, go back to sleep,” He soothed.

You should have tried to pull away from the hand on your head, but his thumb gently stroking your forehead was soothing.

You closed your eyes, already in the no man's land between waking and sleeping.

You felt a hand on your face, the thumb now stroking your cheek. You leaned into it, its warmth tipping the scales towards sleep.

Arthur smiled, that hadn’t been what he was expecting when you leaned into his hand.

He carried on running his thumb across your cheek for a few more moments.

“Sweet dreams kitten,” he whispered, before pressing his lips to your forehead, and removing his hand.

  
Arthur stood up, and walked out of the tent. He just needed to get some air. It was nowhere close to morning.

In the brightness of the moon, he saw Dutch, standing on the edge of the overlook. Looking out across the river.

He wandered across. “you ain't sleeping either?”

Dutch spun around, surprised to see someone else awake at this time of night.

“You know me son, I don't sleep much,” he hesitated, “hows our little charge?”

Arthur sighed, “She just had a nightmare, she’s ok now though.”

Dutch frowned as he looked at the expression on Arthur's face.

“Be careful son,” Dutch warned.

Arthur shrugged, “what d’ya mean?”

Dutch smiled and shook his head, “You know exactly what I mean. Despite the facade, she’s not as tough as she looks. She’s broken enough already, she don't need breaking anymore!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “think I’ll be heading back to bed.”

  
Dutch watched as Arthur walked back to his tent. His thoughts turned to you. He knew they’d only scratched the surface of what you had been through. Maybe Arthur was just what you needed. If he wasn't, then it might just tip you over the edge. On the flip-side, you might be just what Arthur needed. Maybe he was worrying needlessly. Sometimes he found it difficult to separate his two roles, gang leader and father figure. He just wanted what was best for everyone, that was the paradox.

  
You were roughly jolted awake, as Arthur shook your shoulder.

Sunlight streamed into the tent.

“C’mon sleeping beauty,” he scoffed, “time to get up!”

You rubbed your face and yawned.

“You didn't wake me like this last night,” you mumbled, still half asleep.

Arthur looked at you and rolled his eyes, “that was different, now get your arse out of that cot, we’ve got things to do!”

You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the cot. You rolled your shoulders, trying to get the early morning stiffness out of your joints.

“Those clothes that Grimshaw found for you, are way too big for a runt like you. We’re gonna have to go into town, and get you some that fit!” Arthur grumbled.

You found your boots, and pulled them on.

“Is that allowed?” You questioned, “me going into town!”

“As long as you don’t do anything stupid, like running off!” He retorted.

You stood up, and walked out of the tent. It was later than you thought. You were normally up at sunrise, but the sun had been up for a while.

“Go and grab some food, I need to talk to Dutch,” Arthur huffed.

You watched him walk towards Dutch’s tent. You figured he probably wasn’t a morning person.

  
You headed towards where the stew was bubbling in the cauldron over a camp fire. There were some metal bowls on a table nearby so you grabbed one.

You got a few glares from some of the people around the camp, but you tried to ignore them.

As you went to grab hold of the ladle which sat in the stew pot, you felt a hand grab the back of your shirt.

It pulled you away with such force that you landed on your back in the dirt.

The man responsible walked over and grabbed you by your shirt collar, lifting you in the air.

He had longish blonde hair, and a horseshoe moustache. His blue eyes bore into you, as he scowled at you.

“What makes you think an O’Driscoll has the right to any food? Huh!” He growled.

You tried to grab at his arms, but they didn't move, not even when you hit them.

“Get off me!” You growled.

“You pathetic little whore,” he hissed. “Maybe I’ll let you have some food once you’ve given me something in return!” he smirked.

“Get off me, you bastard!” you screamed. You kicked out with your legs, trying to make contact with him, but you failed miserably.

The next thing you knew, you were on your back on the floor. Then he was on top of you.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, as he straddled you.

Your screamed, “p..please don’t!”

You started to sob, tears running down your face. Maybe your father had been right after all. A whore or a boy.

  
“Micah! Get off of her, before I put a bullet in your head!” Arthur growled.

Micah turned his head, to look at Arthur.

“What's the matter cowpoke, you wanna keep the little O’Driscoll whore all to yourself, now that ain't fair!” he smirked.

Arthur pulled his gun, and cocked the hammer, “She ain't a whore, she’s a kid, now let her alone!” He growled.

Micah rolled his eyes, “you ain't gonna shoot me cowpoke,” he scoffed.

Dutch walked out of his tent, a gun in his hand.

“No Micah, but I will. She my guest, now get off of her, and make yourself scarce!” Dutch growled.

Micah narrowed his eyes, and glared at you.

“You ain't seen the last of me O’Driscoll!” He smirked.

He released your arms, stood up, walking towards where the horses were hitched.

  
You rolled over, and curled into a ball, sobbing.

Why was this happening to you. Maybe your daddy had been right after all.

Arthur holstered his gun, and went running over to where you were laying.

He knelt down, and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s gonna be ok, I got ya now!” he soothed.

Dutch called over, “bring her in here!”

Arthur gently lifted you from the ground and carried you over to Dutch’s tent. He couldn't believe how someone as old as you, could be so small, and weigh so little.

  
Arthur sat you on Dutch’s cot. You leaned into him, trembling and sobbing.

Hosea followed both men in, and stood in the doorway, his body blocking the entrance.

“I warned you about him Dutch! I warned you, but you wouldn't listen!” Hosea scolded.

Dutch grabbed a glass, and a bottle of brandy, and poured a large measure.

He handed it to Arthur.

“Here son, give her this!”

Dutch looked at Hosea, his eyebrows pinched together.

“Now isn’t the time for recrimination, Hosea!”

  
Arthur put the glass in your hands. You could barely hold it, your hands were shaking so much.

He put his hands over the outside of yours and guided the glass to your lips.

After a few sips, you managed to stop sobbing, although you breath was still coming in gasps and your hands were still trembling.

Dutch walked over and crouched in front of you, so he was at your eye level.

“Tell me what happened, sweetheart,” he urged.

You looked him in the eye.

“I...I was getting food,” you gasped, “l...like Arthur told me.”

You took another sip of the brandy.

“He said...He said I couldn’t unless I...”

A sob escaped your lips again.

Dutch took the glass and put it to one side.

As Arthur let your hands go, Dutch grabbed hold of them, gently rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you that again. You have every right to eat our food, and no one has the right to try and abuse you like that.”

You swallowed hard, looking Dutch in the eye.

“My Daddy...he said that's all girls were good for,” you whimpered.

Dutch glanced at Arthur, who was frowning. Then he glanced back at you.

“I’d really like to meet your daddy,” he growled.

You shook your head, “you can’t… he’s dead,” you hesitated.

You looked at Arthur, then back at Dutch.

“I killed him.”


	5. Don't Pity Me

You watched as Dutch stared at Arthur. It was difficult to gage the expression on his face. When you looked at Arthur's face, you saw his expression as plain as day. It was a look of surprise.

Sure, it was ok for Outlaws to kill people, but a girl? You could tell what he was thinking. It wasn't just the fact that a girl had killed someone. It was the fact that you were barely more than a child, when you killed him, and you had killed your father, your own flesh and blood.

You looked down at the floor, not able to look either of them in the face.

“You hate me now. Just like everyone else. You’d hate me less if I were just an O’Driscoll!” You sighed.

Dutch, who still hadn't let go of your hands, squeezed them gently.

“Of course we don’t hate you sweetheart, its just...” He hesitated.

Arthur cupped your jaw in his hand, turning your head to look at him. He stroked your cheek, back and forth with his thumb.

“We couldn’t hate you, Kitten. We’re just a little bit surprised is all.” He smiled gently.

Arthur held your gaze, you couldn't seem to avert your eyes from his. It was like staring into the ocean.

“I...I ain't sorry,” you gasped. “He...he...” you stuttered.

Arthur shushed you, “you don't have to explain, we know he weren’t a good father.”

His hand moved from your face, and rested on your shoulder.

You trembled slightly, not used to anyone touching you so gently.

You looked up at Dutch, who was now standing.

“What about your mama?” Dutch asked

You shook your head, “I never knew her, she died when she had me.”

Dutch frowned, “so did your daddy take care of you...when you were a babe?”

You shook your head, “I don't know, I can’t really remember.”

Dutch smiled, “of course you don’t. C’mon, lets get you something to eat, then Arthur can take you into town!”

You frowned, “that man...Micah...he said...”

Arthur squeezed your shoulder, “don’t you worry about him, he ain't gonna touch you, I’ll see to that!”

  
You wished you could believe it, but you’d known people like Micah. In fact he reminded you a lot of your father, a bully. Someone who just took what he wanted.

He’d always told you how useless and worthless you were, until you began to believe it.

He would push and push. Then when he finally thought he’d broken you, he pushed once more, and you snapped. You could still see the look on his face now. The shock that you’d actually stood up for yourself.

  
You were brought out of your thoughts as Arthur guided you out the tent, his hand still on your shoulder.

“Arthur?” You asked, as you walked over to where the stew was bubbling, over the fire.  
“Uh huh,” he replied, slightly distracted.  
“Why is everyone being so nice to me?” You quizzed him.  
Arthur, stopped dead in his tracks, and stared at you.  
“What you talkin' about?” He huffed.  
You frowned, “just seems like since you found out about my past...well I ain't looking for pity!”

Arthur grabbed your shoulders, “It ain't pity, kitten. Its just how normal people act towards one another!”

You sighed, “I’ve never gone out of my way to be nasty, but I ain't normal, neither!”

Arthur chuckled, “I guess you ain’t, but we’re workin’ on that!”

  
You both grabbed a bowl of stew and headed back to where Hosea and Dutch were sitting.

“Everything ok?” Dutch asked glancing between you and Arthur.

You guess he’d seen, Arthur grab your shoulders.

You nodded, and started to eat your food.

“She thinks she ain't normal, and we’re being too nice!” Arthur smirked.

You glared at him, and went back to eating your stew.

Hosea chuckled, “its how we treat people...well people that aren't O’Driscolls!”

You looked over at him curiously.

“They still think I am!” you exclaimed, nodded with your head towards some of the gang who were sitting around the camp fire, “especially that blonde woman!”

Dutch looked over towards the group.

“Ahh that’ll be Mrs Adler!” He noted.

“When you had me tied up, she spat at me, and called me a murdering bastard! Maybe she was right,” you mumbled.

Dutch narrowed his eyes, “You weren’t at the Adler cabin, were you?”

You shook your head. You’d been thinking of your daddy.

“O’Driscolls killed her husband, and kept her prisoner for three days!” Dutch explained.

You looked across the camp, and watched the woman. You knew full well what the O’Driscolls would have done to her. They would have done the same to you, if they’d found out you were a girl!

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Dutch looked at you, and smiled, “you ain't got nothing to be sorry for, Kat!”

You shrugged, “I can understand why she hates me, if she thinks I was an O’Driscoll!”

Dutch stood up, and walked over to where you were sitting. He gently put his hand on your shoulder.

You looked up at him, a confused expression on your face.

“Once she knows what happened to you, she won’t hate you, I know that much,” he soothed.

You swallowed hard, your heart beating against your chest wall.

“You aren't...aren’t gonna tell everyone, what happened...with my daddy, are you?” you panicked.

Dutch gently shook his head. “No Kat, that’ll be up to you. You can tell them as much or as little as you want,” Dutch hesitated, “I have a funny feeling, there's more to tell, and when your ready, we’ll be here.”

You stared down into your empty bowl. You’d told them plenty enough for now. The rest, you just wanted to bury. As for the rest of Dutch’s gang, well you didn't know yet. The last thing you wanted was for people to feel sorry for you. On the flip side, you really didn't want to be hated either.

  
Arthur stood up, “c’mon, lets go, you need a change of clothes!”

You looked down at your self. He was right about that. You’d been wearing the same clothes for at least a week now. Even when you were running with the O’Driscolls, you’d tried to keep yourself clean, and wear clean clothes when you could.

You followed Arthur over to the horses. For the first time he didn't have a hand clamped on your shoulder or around your neck.

“You reckon I could get a bath in town, Arthur?” You asked, hopefully.

Arthur looked over his shoulder and chuckled, sniffing the air slightly.

“I reckon that would be a good idea!”

You lifted your arm, and sniffed, grimacing slightly. Yeah, you were starting to smell a little bit too!

  
When you reached the horses, you looked around, wondering what horse you were going to ride. There were loads, but you figured some where owned by specific people.

“Which one should I take?” you asked.

Arthur chuckled, “we might be going into town, but you ain't riding on your own, not yet at least.”

You rolled your eyes, “still don't trust me, huh!”

Arthur walked behind you. He wrapped on arm around you, his forearm placed gently across the front of your neck, his hand resting on your shoulder. His other hand rested gently on your arm.

“About as far as I can throw you, Kitten!” he whispered in your ear.

You weren't sure if it was his breath on your neck, that made your hairs stand on end, or perhaps the tone of his voice. It may have been the way he pulled you into his chest. Suddenly you felt vulnerable.

You shuddered slightly, even though it wasn't cold. He must have felt it, as he released his arms. Instead he place a hand on your shoulder as he guided you towards his horse.

You thought perhaps that you would be riding behind him, the same way you had ridden behind John when you went to Colm’s cabin, but you were mistaken.

You gasped, as you felt Arthur's hands around your waist, as he lifted you up onto his horse, then quickly mounted up behind you.

Before you had a chance to complain, his arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You stiffened slightly, but didn't complain. There was little or no point.

“Relax, Kitten,” he whispered, “ain’t no harm gonna come to ya!”

  
The town of Valentine was quite close. Although you’d heard of it, from some of Colm’s boys, you’d never actually been there. The six months you’d been with the O’Driscolls, you’d barely been anywhere. Mostly you’d stayed around the main camp. The mountains was the first time they’d let you out on your own, and look where that had got you.

Not that you weren't glad to be away from the O’Driscolls. It was just that your plan of getting away hadn’t involved joining another gang. Least of all Colm’s biggest enemy.

No one really knew why he hated Dutch so much, you hadn’t asked why. Asking too many questions, or saying too much, generally got you into trouble. You hadn't asked Dutch either. You didn't think it was a good idea. If Arthur didn't trust you, then it was unlikely that Dutch would either.

  
Arthur hitched his horse outside the general store, then lifted you down. You were getting a few funny looks from the residents of Valentine, or maybe it wasn't you, maybe it was Arthur.

Or the way he had his hand on you. As usual, resting on your shoulder, guiding you where he wanted you to go. This time guiding you into the general store.

  
The store owner frowned slightly as you walked into the store. Not at Arthur, but at you. You guessed, even though you breasts were no longer bound, you had a slightly unusual appearance. Your hair was still short, and messy. You were dressed in clothes, usually reserved for men. You probably smelt a bit too. Coupled with the fact that you were quite small, especially compared to Arthur.

“I need some clothes to for her!” Arthur piped up. “Trousers, shirts, a jacket...some underwear.”

You felt your face flush slightly.

The store keeper nodded, “look in the catalogue. I got most stuff in most sizes.” he shoved over a piece of paper and a pencil, so that you could write it down.

You looked at the pencil, as though it were something alien. You hadn't told any of them that you couldn't read or write. Your daddy figured you weren't worth teaching.

Arthur had guessed by the expression on your face, that this was the case, so he picked up the pencil.

“pick out what you want, and I’ll write it down,” he whispered in your ear.

You looked up at him.

“Thanks, Arthur.” you mumbled, so that only he could hear.

Arthur smiled, and placed his hand on your neck, his finger gently massaging the back of it.

Your breath hitched in your throat, as your whole body shuddered, like it had just been hit with a bolt of lightening. You stifled a moan, and quickly opened the catalogue.


	6. Valentine

It was only when the storekeeper piled the clothes on the counter, you realised that there was more there than you had intended. Arthur helped you carry the clothes back to his horse, where he packed them away in the saddlebags.

"I'm sure I didn't pick out all this stuff!" you exclaimed as you handed Arthur some of the purchases. In fact some of the stuff, you were sure you hadn't even picked out.

Arthur chuckled, "better to have too much, than not enough!"

Once he had packed everything away, he sighed.

"C'mon, after all that, I need a drink!"

Before you had walked very far, you felt Arthur's hand on the back of your neck, his fingers gently massaging it. You felt a tingle run down you're spine, and you moaned under your breath.

Arthur snickered, "you like that, don't you, Kitten?"

You felt your face flush, "I...Its different," you stuttered.

Arthur smirked, and guided you up the steps to the Smithfield's saloon.

As you walked in, you watched as Arthur waved at two men at the bar. His hand dropped from the back of your neck to your shoulder.

"Hey Arthur!" The Mexican greeted him, "since when do we take O'Driscolls out for a drink!"

Before you had a chance to tell him that you weren't an O'Driscoll, Arthur piped up.

"This little Kitten ain't an O'Driscoll, not a proper one anyway!"

The Mexican chuckled, "Javier, pleased to meet you, and this is Charles," he motioned to the man standing next to him.

"I'm Kat!" You introduced yourself. Arthur may think it funny to call you Kitten, but it wasn't your name!

Arthur quickly ordered a couple of beers, then glanced at you, then at Javier.

"She's to small for a Kat, so that's why I call her Kitten," Arthur smirked.

The two men chuckled.

"Are you sure you should be buying her a beer, Arthur?" Javier asked.

You frowned at him, "I'm seventeen!"

Javier held his hands up, "Ok...just checking," he chuckled.

You grabbed the bottle of beer and took a couple of large gulps. Just because you were small, didn't mean you had to be treated like a child.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and took a gulp of his own.

"Where's Bill?" Arthur asked.

The words were barely out of his mouth, before a drunken Bill came stumbling through the door. He collided into another man, and before you knew what was happening all hell broke loose, as punches started to fly.

You tried to keep out of the way, as much as possible, but when you saw Javier in a strangle hold, you picked up your beer bottle, and smashed it over his assailants head.

The man collapsed in a heap.

Javier turned to look at you, "Thank you, gatita!" his thumb gently caressed your cheek, "but you should stay out of the way, we don't want your pretty little face to be hurt," he smirked.

He turned away, and continued fighting another man.

Before long a man came lumbering down the stairs, he was huge. He seemed to be making a beeline for Javier.

"Come 'ere you little greaser!"he growled.

You watched as he threw a few punches at Javier, then he grabbed him, and started smashing his head against one of the tables.

You took the other beer bottle and smashed it over the man's head.

Unfortunately for you, it didn't knock him out, like the other one had.

He grabbed hold of your shirt, and punched you, sending you flying over the table. You lay on the floor dazed, and blood coming from your nose.

Before you even had a chance to get up, he grabbed hold of you again, and hurled you through the window of the saloon. You landed in the mud outside, laying on the floor winded.

You watched as he approached you, his face full of fury. This was it, you were sure you were a gonna, your head was spinning and your vision started to blur.

The last thing you heard was Arthur's voice.

"Fucking leave her alone, you ugly son of a bitch!" he growled.

Then darkness took you.

Everything hurt. You couldn't tell what hurt the most, but you thought it was probably your head. More specifically your face.

You groaned, and tried to open your eyes. Even that hurt.

"Dutch...Dutch I think she's waking up!"

A female voice. Once that you vaguely recognised.

You opened your eyes, well one eye. The other one wouldn't really open.

"who...where..." you mumbled.

"I'm Mary-Beth, its ok Kat, you're safe now. You're in Arthur's tent."

You closed your eyes, and tried to sit.

You immediately felt a hand gently press on your shoulder.

"Oh no you don't young lady, you stay put!" Dutch scolded.

You didn't fight him, there wasn't much point.

"Mary-Beth, please can you go and get Kat a glass of water."

It was a request, but the way Dutch said it, was more of an order.

You realised who she was now, the same person who'd snuck you some water, while you had been tied to the tree.

"Wh...what happened?" you groaned.

"I could very well ask you the same thing!" Dutch chided.

You licked you lips, your mouth was dry. You hoped Mary-Beth would hurry back with the water.

"Is Arthur alright?" You asked, "and Javier?"

Dutch rolled his eyes, "they're both fine! In a much better state than you! What exactly happened?"

Your inquisition was halted, as Mary-Beth handed a glass of water to Dutch. You realised he was sitting on the edge of the cot. He gently tilted your head, and put the glass to your lips.

You gulped down several swallows.

Once Dutch had laid your head back on the pillow, you answered him.

"There was a fight...in the saloon."

Although you're eyes were closed, you could imagine the look on his face by the tone of his voice.

"Evidently! What I want to know is why you became involved in a fight?" He demanded.

You tried opening your eyes again, one was ok, the other hurt like hell. You put your hand up to your face, but it was gently pushed back down. You winced. It was only then you realised that your hands were bandaged.

"Wh...what happened...to my hands?" you whimpered.

Dutch sighed, his tone became more gentle.

"Glass, from the window you were thrown through. Hosea dressed them and bandaged them," he explained.

You suddenly realised you were no longer in the muddy clothes, you were just wearing a shirt and a pair of pants. You also felt clean, like you had been bathed.

"Who...who cleaned me up...changed my clothes!" you asked, your voice slightly panicked.

Dutch chuckled, "don't worry Kat, the ladies cleaned you up! Well more specifically Miss Grimshaw!"

You breathed a sigh of relief, you weren't sure why. After all, Dutch had already seen most of you naked, when you were still tied to the tree.

"So!" Dutch continued, "are you going to tell me how you managed to get punched in the face, and thrown through a window?"

You thought for a moment, how were you going to explain that the whole thing started because Bill picked a fight with a man that he had bumped into. You weren't a rat, never had been.

"A big guy was attacking Javier, so I hit him over the head with a beer bottle like I did the first one, but it didn't knock the second one out, so he came after me!" You explained.

Dutch shook his head, "you make a habit of hitting people over the head with bottles?"

You shook you head.

Dutch hummed, "just get some rest, I'll send someone in with some food later."

You closed your eyes, you weren't really bothered about food, you just wanted your body to stop aching.

Food didn't come later, because you didn't wake up. You guessed that Dutch didn't really want to wake you. You're poor body, probably craved rest more than food. So you slept, through the rest of the day and the following night.

Your eyelids gently fluttering open as the sun rose to greet a new day.

As your eyes opened, you felt fingers push loose strands of hair from your face. Being careful to avoid your still swollen eye.

"Good morning Kitten, glad to see you're still with us!" Arthur smirked.

You blinked in surprise. You hadn't asked where he had been, and now you came to think of it. The last time you had seen him was in the saloon.

"Where have you been?" you asked, curiously.

Arthur chuckled, "had to go and retrieve another damsel in distress!"

You tried to frown at him, but you winced. Moving the muscles on the left side of your face, still hurt. At least for now.

"Alright, not a damsel, but Sean Maguire almost gets himself into as many scrapes as you, Kitten!" he smirked.

You breathed a heavy sighed, "I was only trying to help!"

Arthur smiled, "and I'm sure Javier is more that grateful, but next time use a bigger bottle, eh!"

Arthur put his hand under your back and helped you to sit.

"Now since you've been sleeping for nearly two days, I think we should get you some food!" He suggested.

You nodded, and waited for him to pass you some clothes.

Arthur stood at the end of the cot, looking at you.

"Well I'm not getting dressed with you staring at me," you huffed.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head, leaving the tent.

Give it time, he thought to himself, and you'd be more than happy to have him in the tent with you, clothes or not!


End file.
